


Leave It In The Past

by aban_ataashi



Series: A Little Bit Of Sunlight (Desta's Story) [9]
Category: Pillars of Eternity
Genre: Gen, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:21:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25204627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aban_ataashi/pseuds/aban_ataashi
Summary: Woedica has some thoughts on what the future should hold. Desta is not convinced.
Series: A Little Bit Of Sunlight (Desta's Story) [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1550872
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7





	Leave It In The Past

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RisuAlto](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RisuAlto/gifts).



> Based on the poetry prompt: “Let me ask the prophetess Memory” (”Αναερείπωση”)

The book is delivered by a mysterious, hooded person who disappears from the docks just as quickly as they arrived, giving Desta no time to ask any questions before the thing is thrust into her hands. It’s quite obviously ancient, burnt beyond legibility and nearly falling part, held together only by some strange magic that sends a shiver down Desta’s spine. The unfamiliar magic should be a warning sign…but Desta is curious.

She lifts open the front cover slowly, noting the odd warmth emanating from the book’s spine. As the stiff pages move under Desta’s fingers, a voice fills her head with the sort of echoing power that she has only ever heard from the gods.

 _“Watcher”._ The voice is imperious and thoroughly self-assured in its condescension, and it isn’t difficult for Desta to identify the speaker. A strange power threatens to wash over her, similar to the way Berath has previously pulled her into the In Between, and Desta barely has enough time to slam the book shut before it fully takes effect.

Promptly, she turns on her heels and chucks Woedica’s book into the ocean. She has quite enough to deal with already without throwing _that_ into the mix.

Unfortunately, the problem of the book is not so easily dealt with. Desta is rummaging through her bag two days later when instead of a spyglass her fingers brush up against the spine of the thick, tattered, most-definitely-not-soaking book. Perhaps it’s just her imagination, but the increased heat it gives off feels almost indignant.

Still, Desta refuses to open it. She tries throwing it away a few more times, only for it to consistently reappear among her possessions, each time growing warmer and warmer until just touching it nearly burns her fingers. But for all its stubbornness, the book does not _force_ its visions upon her, so for the most part Desta is able to pretend it isn’t there.

Meanwhile, the looks Desta receives from Woedica whenever Berath invades her dreams to hold court with the gods only get more and more scathing as time goes on. Desta doesn’t pay them much mind. After everything she’s already been through because of the high and mighty queen of the gods, courtesy is quite low on the list of her concerns.

“Ah. The insolent Watcher.”

Desta blinks, surprised, as she realizes she is still standing in the In Between. This is normally the part where the gods, having had their fill of arguing with both her and each other, leave Desta with vague ultimatums and fade away to do whatever it is they do when they’re not making demands of Watchers.

But this time is different. This time, one god lingers, and Desta finds herself under the cold, disapproving gaze of Weodica.

Desta releases a long, tired sigh before answering. “That’s me. What’s this about? Don’t tell me you need the last word so badly you’re actually willing to suffer my presence.”

Woedica’s expression, already stony, somehow hardens even further. “Your disregard for your gods does you no credit.”

The air around Desta seems to grow thin as Woedica speaks, and for a few moments she finds it increasingly difficult to breathe. A small part of knows this is unwise, reminds her that provoking gods who already hate her is not good for her health. But Desta is done playing their games. She’s faced Galawain. She’s faced Rymrgand. She’s spent over a year arguing with Berath on a regular basis. As much as they may wish to, the gods can’t kill her now; not when they _need_ her.

Stubbornly, Desta pushes through the sensation, clenching her jaw as she meets Woedica’s stare head-on. “None of you are _my_ gods.”

Woedica is silent for a moment, and the pressure around Desta releases slightly. “Is that your aim, then? You support Eothas in his foolhardy endeavor to hand the world over to kith- the very same kith who could not even come together to address the threat he poses?”

“Eothas is no better than the rest of you,” Desta snaps. “Trampling through the Deadfire because he thinks he knows what’s best for us. But if I’m being honest, a world without the gods sounds pretty good to me.”

Anger flashes in Woedica’s eyes, venom leaking into her voice as she responds. “So self-righteous. So convinced you alone have the answers.” The goddess considers Desta for a moment. “A world without gods. I remember what that is like. We all do, but it is I who still see that world the clearest; after all, memory has always been my domain. And I remember that it was a world kith did not desire to live in.”

“Your opinion on that isn’t exactly unbiased,” Desta points out. “Beside,s this isn’t the world you remember. A lot has changed. We don’t need a bunch of hypocritical, cowardly-”

“ _Watch your tongue, mortal,”_ Woedica commands, and this time the air is _forced_ out of Desta’s lungs. It only lasts a moment, but it leaves Desta doubled over and gasping for air as the goddess stands over her, cold and impassive.

“Berath has been far too lenient with you. You need to be taught proper respect.” She studies Desta for a moment in silent judgment. “You say the world has changed enough to move on without us. That remains to be seen. The truth of your words would be easier to discern had you cooperated with me from the start. But I have been observing you all the same. Decisions will need to be made soon, and those decisions will be determined by your performance on this journey.”

Desta’s breathing has finally steadied enough for her to speak again. “Is that what this is about? An evaluation of my performance?” She laughs, and the sound is only slightly delirious. “Let me guess- you have some critiques?”

“Naturally,” Woedica answers drily. “You are emotional. Impulsive. Foolish. You are an example of why kith obviously still need the guidance of the gods to keep them from destroying themselves.” She pauses, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly. “And yet some of my brethren still disagree. And some of your actions thus far will make it difficult to argue my case.”

That catches Desta by surprise. She wonders for a moment whether it was meant as a condemnation or a compliment, and in the end she simply shrugs. “Making things difficult for gods is a specialty of mine, I guess.”

Woedica remains unimpressed. “Perhaps you should focus that ability on Eothas. The future of the world will depend on your next encounter with him. Do try not to ruin that future with your stubbornness.”

After awakening from her time in the In Between, Desta makes her way upwards to the deck of her ship. She leans against the railing, turning over her latest conversation with the gods in her head. In the distance, the storms around Ondra’s Mortar rage on, growing closer with every passing minute. Ukaizo- and Eothas- lie just beyond.

Desta pulls the book from its insistent position in her bag. It’s still warm, but no longer threatens to burn her hands as she holds it out in front of her.

Woedica thinks a future without the leadership of gods is destined for failure. But Desta has seen for herself what happens when the gods rule unchallenged. Honestly, she thinks the world can do better. She thinks the world _deserves_ better.

Desta has no idea what the future holds, and she’d be lying is she said that didn’t scare her at all. But she knows that some things belong in the past. “We’re not repeating old mistakes,” she says quietly. “Maybe we’ll make some new ones. But we’ll handle them on our own.”

She drops the book into the sea, and as it disappears below the waves, she has a feeling that this time it won’t be coming back.


End file.
